


Passing the Time

by Laylah



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Bondage, Confined/Caged, Dubious Consent, Hate Sex, M/M, Pastfic, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-14
Updated: 2006-09-14
Packaged: 2017-10-21 09:37:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eventually, even if the others have decided to pretend that they are only six, and forget him entirely, something will get him out of here. Earthquake. War. Something. But every day that he waits will be more awful than the last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passing the Time

It hurts all the time, whenever he’s conscious, and Greed tries not to be as much as possible. It’s against his nature, and it takes more work than just lying there, hurting, but sometimes he craves the respite more even than sensation. Which says something about how painful it is to be sealed.

His skull is mounted in the ceiling above him, some twenty feet up at least, high enough that even if he weren’t bound, and even if its proximity weren’t making him sick and weak, and even if the floor-to-ceiling sigil weren’t glowing with the stones he’d coughed up when he was first thrown in here — even if all those things were in his favor, instead of against him, it would still be fair odds whether he could reach the damn thing. As it is, he has no chance. He can roll over — onto his back, which hurts arms where they’re bound behind him, or onto his stomach, which is more humiliating but less physically painful — but that’s about the extent of it.

They bound his arms with _leather straps_ , and the very idea makes him furious. If he could shift, just a little, he could twist his arms out of joint in whatever direction he needed and heal afterward. If he had even half his strength, he could just pull until the leather gave. But in this place, with this sick pink light gleaming from every surface, his body won’t do anything he wants it to.

When he’s not trying to lose consciousness, Greed tries to forget how long he’s been here. That, too, is against his nature. He might not be able to see the days passing, but he can feel it, the way his hunger swells, the way his need increases the longer he lies here. It’s been six weeks so far. Six weeks with no interruptions, no-one coming in to bargain or threaten or present him with terms for his release. It’s a bad sign. The longer the others just leave him here, the more likely they are to keep doing so.

He can wait, as long as he has to. Nothing is permanent. Eventually, even if the others have decided to pretend that they are only six, and forget him entirely, _something_ will get him out of here. Earthquake. War. Something. But every day that he waits will be more awful than the last. He’s hard pressed to think of ways this could be worse.

A door clicks open and shut behind him. Greed refuses to spend the effort to turn and look, listening to the soft footsteps padding toward him. A toe in the ribs rolls him over, onto his back. “I have to say, Greed, that’s a good look for you.”

“Envy. I don’t suppose you’re here on an errand of mercy.” All right, so this is a way it could be worse.

Envy grins, far too pleased with itself. “No.” Its eyes sparkle with malice.

“Of course not.” Greed rolls into a kneeling position, trying not to wince at the absurd amount of effort it takes. “Just a little friendly thrashing for the prisoner, then? Something to make me feel at home?”

“Almost what I had in mind,” Envy says sweetly, one hand rubbing lewdly at its crotch. That, Greed thinks, is _definitely_ a way this could be worse. “But since you asked –”

Envy has always been one of the most graceful of them, its movements almost like dancing, strangely slow-motion — or maybe that’s just Greed’s weakness — when its foot arcs through the air to collide with Greed’s jaw. Greed’s head snaps back and he overbalances, falls, lands hard on his shoulder with no way to catch himself. The soft inside of his cheek tears against his sharp teeth, and he tastes salt and copper.

It’s different. Immediate. It doesn’t hurt the same way as the dull, sucking ache from the sealing circle, and he seizes onto that: it’s sensation, experience, something real. _Something_ as opposed to _nothing_.

He tries to hold on to that thought as Envy walks slowly around him, stops, and whips another hard kick into his stomach. He retches, even though he has nothing to bring up, and that probably tells Envy all it needs to know about his weakness.

It giggles, and kicks him again, right below his ribs, forcing the breath from him. Greed clenches his teeth and tries not to give Envy the satisfaction of hearing him moan. Passively resisting he can manage — he doubts he’d have the energy to move even if he thought it would do any good.

Envy kicks him in the head again, and he rolls onto his back reflexively. The sigil in the ceiling is spinning slowly, his skull grinning down at him.

“You’re no fun at all,” Envy says, straddling him and resting its weight on his stomach. “The seal really takes it out of you, hmm?”

Greed narrows his eyes. “Maybe I just don’t want to give you the satisfaction,” he slurs.

“You’re not going to have any choice about that,” Envy promises. It strokes its cock, eyes gleaming with the light of the seal. “You’re going to give me anything I decide to take.” It leans down, hands braced on his shoulders, and licks up the blood that has trickled from the corner of his mouth. “I know you, big brother. Can you honestly tell me you don’t want it?”

Greed turns his face away, gritting his teeth. He has spent the last six weeks in a blur of helpless _want_ , craving any sensation at all. The best he could manage, if he were honest, is that he wants almost anything else more than this — but he wants this more than nothing. “Fuck you,” he spits.

“No, Greed,” Envy says, slithering down his body quick and vicious as a mongoose, “fuck _you_.” Its hands are nimble and impatient, stripping away the leather that binds his legs, tugging open his belt, yanking at the buttons of his trousers.

Envy pauses when it has his trousers pulled down off his hips, and looks up at him consideringly. “I don’t suppose you want this dry, do you?”

Greed knows exactly where that question is leading, but he’s not healing well down here, and he suspects that he’d be better off if he cooperated. He’s not Pride, after all, even if he has some. “Of course I don’t.”

Envy stands, pulling its cock out of its shorts, smiling down at him as it strokes itself. “Then you know what you have to do.”

Greed bares his teeth in something that is most definitely not a smile. He doesn’t know if he _can_ pull himself up to his knees again, especially for a reward as dubious as the chance to choke on Envy’s cock.

His weakness apparently reads as resistance. “Changed your mind?” Envy asks, raising an eyebrow. “Or maybe you need a little more incentive.” It shifts, stretching upward, growing taller and lankier and more decidedly masculine, with short spiky hair and hands that always faintly suggest claws. Greed looks up from the floor into his own smiling face.

“Does this make it better?” Envy asks, in his voice. Greed spits.

He rolls to the side, most of the way onto his stomach, and pulls his legs in. He has to stop there, and just breathe for a moment, while Envy watches him with his face but its own smile. It’s hate that gets him moving again, gets his legs curled under him and brings him up to a kneeling position. For Envy, out of all of them, to see him so weak –

“Well?” Envy says, watching. “Almost there. You can do it.” It sounds as though it’s encouraging a friendly but stupid dog.

Greed shuffles forward, made awkward by the way his trousers trap his thighs, his snarl fixed. The cock Envy presents to him is identical to his own, except that Envy is hard, and he isn’t.

He would never admit it, and he prays that Envy doesn’t figure it out, but it _does_ make this easier for Envy to wear his shape. When he parts his lips, and Envy pushes in, hard and brutal, the sheer perversity of knowing that this is what it feels like when _he_ fucks someone’s throat makes the whole experience interesting enough — novel enough — that it’s almost bearable.

Envy must be able to tell that he’s not suffering as much as he could. It takes a tight grip on his hair. “If you so much as think about biting,” it says, sounding as though it hopes he will, “I will come down here with your thigh bones and nail you to the fucking wall with them.” A moment for him to consider those words, and then Envy thrusts in deep, choking him, grinding his face into its crotch, holding him down. He can’t breathe, and he thrashes against Envy’s grip, his struggles nowhere near enough to free himself. There are black spots swimming in front of his eyes, and he can hear Envy’s high, mocking laughter, muffled as if it’s coming from a long way off.

When Envy pulls out halfway at last, it’s all Greed can do to suck in a few desperate, gasping breaths — and then Envy thrusts back in even harder than before, working its cock deep in his throat. Greed closes his eyes and tries to block it out, tries to pretend he’s not there, not feeling this, not listening to his psychotic sibling laughing at him, not getting dizzy and weak when Envy is barely trying to hurt him, not aching right down to his bones as the seal sucks the life right out of him — not being _defeated_ so damned easily.

He sways when Envy pulls out and lets go of his hair, but he manages not to fall. Envy is still wearing his shape, and he has to admit that it looks good like that — broad shoulders and long limbs, sharp features, cock swollen and glistening with his spit.

“You _do_ like it,” Envy says with a hateful little smile. “Sucking your own cock.” It makes a fist, and Greed flinches but doesn’t quite manage to dodge fast enough, and he tastes fresh blood as he falls.

But the fact that he notices the taste is almost encouraging. Greed probes carefully with his tongue, feeling for the earlier tear in his mouth, from the first time Envy knocked him down. He can’t find it. So he _is_ still healing, even if it’s not as fast as usual. The seal might feel like it’s killing him, but there’s a limit to how much of his strength it sucks away.

“What’s wrong, brother?” Envy is on the floor with him now, its hands on his hips, rolling him over. “Anyone would think you weren’t enjoying yourself.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Greed says, as Envy drags him into position, face down on the floor, his ass in the air and his legs spread as far as his half-removed trousers will allow.

Envy giggles. “Me either.” It drapes itself over him, its skin cool against his, and snakes one hand around to palm his cock as it lines itself up against him. Greed hisses when Envy pushes in, trying to will his body to respond, to relax and open up. It hurts, but it hurts less than getting kicked in the ribs — and then Envy wraps its fingers around his cock, jerking him off roughly, and he clings to that because it’s _easy_ to want to come.

Not that he expects Envy to let him. But it feels good, those hard fast strokes, the texture of Envy’s hand changing as it shifts back into its preferred form. He’s not too weak and hurting to be able to get it up as Envy strokes him, changes shape and size inside him. He knows he needs to try to keep control of it — the more he wants to get off, the happier Envy will be to not let him — but it’s the first thing he’s felt in six weeks that’s worth wanting, and it makes the pain not matter.

“I knew you wanted it,” Envy says, fucking him slower, harder, like it’s decided to savor the experience instead of just riding him as fast and rough as possible. Receptive, it turns out, is something Greed’s body can still do, and he tries to keep his harsh breaths as quiet as he can. Envy will take away anything he admits to enjoying — that’s what it _does_.

“Is it good, brother?” Envy asks, as if it’s reading his mind. Greed clenches his hands into fists and doesn’t answer.

Envy stops moving, letting go of his cock, its own buried deep in his ass. “I can’t hear you,” it says. It waits a few more seconds, and when Greed still doesn’t answer it snarls a hand in his hair and slams his head against the floor.

Black and red spots burst in Greed’s field of vision, and blood drips from his nose onto the floor, where the seal drinks it up hungrily. “I hate you,” he growls, dizzy and sick.

“I hate you, too,” Envy says, and goes back to stroking his cock, bringing him back to full hardness ridiculously quickly. He’s running out of strength to fight — when Envy starts to fuck him again and for just a moment it’s completely _right_ he can’t quite choke off the little grateful whimper.

“Do that again,” Envy demands. It rolls its hips, and Greed’s body responds automatically. He doesn’t even have to think about how to want this — it’s easy, almost painless, Envy’s hands and cock so pure and immediate that he can almost block out the rest of this place, the pain and the dull misery of nothingness. Envy is responsible for that, too, but right now he just wants to take what he can get and worry about sorting everything out in his head later.

It seems to go over best if he resists at first, but caves when Envy repeats its demands. At any rate, it doesn’t hit him again, just hisses and threatens and thrusts in deep when he lets more hungry animal noises escape through his teeth. And fuck, Envy can do this right when it wants to, fast and smooth, and Greed is so fucking hard now he’d swear he’s shifting — why isn’t Envy stopping? Greed is so close, so ready, his whole body tense and coiled and –

Envy stops, lets go of his cock as if it’s red-hot.

“No,” Greed snarls, “fuck you, _no_.” He pushes back with all the strength he has left, driving himself onto Envy’s cock — once, twice — craving, demanding it — and it’s enough, he’s shuddering moaning coming hard, triumphant, grinning fiercely at Envy’s howl of outrage.

It finishes almost immediately after he does — conceding defeat, Greed thinks, and he holds tight to that idea because he knows what comes next won’t be pleasant at all.

“Whore,” Envy says as it pulls out, shoving itself away from him.

Greed lets himself fall to one side so he can twist, look up at it and smile. “Slut,” he corrects, because he’s already so fucked it doesn’t matter if he pisses Envy off a little more. “I gave you that one for free.”

Envy doesn’t even answer that, narrowing its eyes and stepping into a kick so hard that it lifts Greed off the floor, throwing him backward to land in an awkward, dizzy sprawl. He’s won, Greed reminds himself. Envy hates him because even here, even now, it can’t completely stop him from getting what he wants.

It looms over him, glaring. “Call yourself whatever you want,” it says. It kicks his legs together, kneeling beside him to bind them with the straps again. “You wanted me to do that to you.” It tightens the straps more than it really has to, and makes no attempt to pull his trousers back into any semblance of order.

“Next time,” Envy says as it stands, “you’ll want it more. Next time I think I’ll make you beg for it.”

Greed says nothing, letting Envy have the last word as it walks away. He’s hurting enough for now. He doesn’t need to give it a reason to thrash him again.

Besides, what it says is true, as far as it goes. He will want it more, when he’s had more time to lie here and starve. He might even swallow his pride enough to beg, if Envy makes him wait long enough. But he’ll never want anything Envy offers as much as he wants to get out of here. While he’s waiting for that, he might as well enjoy the distractions as much as he can.

Greed smiles in the dim light. Envy’s going to hate him when it figures that out.


End file.
